


6 Times Five Helped Out His Siblings...

by kbaycolt



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Five needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 17:29:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17985548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbaycolt/pseuds/kbaycolt
Summary: ... and one time they helped him.(Or, in which the Hargreeves siblings realize the true extent of Five's trauma.)(Chapters are non-linear!)





	1. Number One - Luther

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luther wants to know why being alone is so hard.

"What are you doing?"

Five didn't look away from his calculations. The messy, scrawled numbers in chalk covered the walls and ceiling, filling up every inch of available space. Multiply, divide, square. Narrow it down. Find the people who could stop the Apocalypse.

"What does it look like?" Five snapped. He pressed the rapidly shortening piece of chalk against the wall and started a brand new equation. "I'm calculating probability."

"Probability of what?" Luther stood in the doorway, watching Five with a puzzled expression.

Big dumb oaf.

"What person's death will prevent the Apocalypse."

Luther balked. "What?"

"Are you stupid?" Five growled. "Never mind, I already know the answer."

When it seemed like Luther would give up on his pointless questions, he asked, "so who are these people?" He tapped the piece of wall where Five had marked down four people. "Are they like, murderers or something? Criminals?"

"I think he's a gardener," Five said absently. He pointed to the first name, then hopped off the bed. Instantly, he felt small compared to Luther's bulk, but he couldn't focus on that. "Why did you come in here? I'm busy, if you didn't notice."

"Um..." Luther tore his gaze away from the four targets. "I meant to ask you a question."

"I think you've done enough of that."

"Stop it!"

Five paused. He glanced back at Luther, who was staring at him incredulously. "Stop what?"

"That!" Luther huffed, gesturing vaguely at him. "The bitter insults, the snappishness, we're all tired of it. We get it, you're a 58-year-old man or whatever, but you've gotta feel something, Five."

"Feel something?" Five scoffed. The chalk he was holding snapped in his grip, covering his shirt in dust. "I feel like you need to get out unless you're going to help. I feel like we're wasting time with this conversation. I feel-"

"Those aren't emotions. Those are deflections." Luther sighed. His expression softened. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Stay strong. I mean, being alone that long can't be good for you. I was only alone for four years on the moon, but I wouldn't go back if I had to. How are you still... sane?"

Five barked a laugh. "Sane? What's being sane got to do with anything?"

"I just meant..." Luther trailed off, rephrased, and asked, "how did you—how _do_ you—deal with it? Besides drinking away your sorrows."

A pause. Five twisted his lips into a sneer, but it fell away at Luther's pleading look. He hated that look, the one that made him feel obligated to fix it. He was obligated to stop the Apocalypse, and nothing else. But Luther needed help. Five could see that very clearly.

"You find purpose," Five told him.

"Have you?"

"Yes," Five replied, without an ounce of hesitation. "I have to stop the Apocalypse. That is my purpose. And if holding together this dysfunctional mess of emotionally stunted adults helps do that, then goddammit I'm going to do it."

Luther watched him. His eyebrows furrowed, and his expression morphed into a frown. Something like pity crossed his face. "And what about after?"

"After?"

"After you do all that," Luther said. "Stop the Apocalypse, save the world, all of it. What will be keeping you sane after?"

Five pressed his lips together. "Irrelevant. The only thing that matters is the present." He picked up another chalk stick, abandoning the broken one. "Now get out of my room before I make you."

And—albeit reluctantly—Luther did.


	2. Number Two - Deigo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego bites off more than he can chew, and Five patches him up.

_Bang!_

Diego crumpled to the ground, his shoulder exploding with pain. He clutched at the wound, his breathing turning to ragged gasping as his fingers came away soaked in blood. He managed to stumble to his feet and stagger off down an alley towards his car, where he'd left Number Five defenseless. He should've accepted the kid's offer of assistance.

It was wrong to claim that Five was defenseless. His powers let him jump out of the way miles before anyone got close enough to land a hit.

Diego yanked at the car door, but Five apparently decided to lock him out. In the passenger seat, Five was curled up with his eyes closed, fast asleep. He looked more relaxed than Diego had ever seen him. The constant sneer on his lips was absent, and his shoulders lacked the usual tension. Diego almost didn't want to rouse him.

But he was bleeding out everywhere, dammit.

He rapped loudly on the window, still clutching his burning shoulder. Five jolted awake. His eyes latched onto Diego and instantly lost their sleepy haze, replaced with the normal sharp clarity and feverish intensity. He unlocked the car and let Diego inside.

"What the hell happened to you?" was the first thing out of Five's mouth. "You look like shit."

"Thanks," Diego snapped. He jammed the keys into the engine and took off, cradling his injured arm at his side.

"You got shot," Five noticed, leaning over to observe the wound.

"No shit."

"You should let me drive."

"No way in hell," Diego replied. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. "No offense, but you look thirteen. We'd get pulled over, and when they ask for an I.D., what will you tell them? Some shit about time travel? I don't think so."

Five was never silent for long, so after a pause, he continued, "park the car, Diego. Or I'll park it for you."

The threat hung between them. Diego knew he meant what he said. He pulled the car into an empty lot, the turned off the engine. When Five stepped out of the car, Diego did the same, expecting for Five to just hop in the driver's seat anyway.

Firm fingers wrapped around his upper arm, and then suddenly his entire world was shrinking and contorting in a haze of blue pressure.

They landed back at the house. Five moved with practiced ease, but Diego nearly tripped over himself and toppled to the ground. He would have fallen, had it not been for Five's steady grip on his arm. The kid was stronger than he looked.

But the touch was gone as soon as it came. Five actually wiped his hands on his vest before gesturing for Diego to follow him.

"A w-warning would've been nice," Diego muttered, fighting the urge to keep his food down. Five rolled his eyes.

"Don't be a baby. Come on."

Diego let Five lead him into the kitchen, where he began rummaging in the cabinets for something. Diego pulled out a chair and sat down, hissing at the spike of pain the action caused.

After a moment, Five hopped down from the stool carrying a medical kit and hydrogen peroxide. He popped it open and grabbed a roll of gauze.

As Five worked on wrapping his wound, Diego asked, "how do you remember where all that stuff is? I didn't even know that was up there."

"Dad keeps his things the exact same as they were when I left," Five answered absently. He poured some peroxide over the jagged hole in Diego's shoulder, making him suck in a breath. Five ignored his wince. "Grace wasn't the only one who fixed you idiots up after missions. I convinced her to teach me first aid, actually, so I could help."

"You never helped me," Diego said. It wasn't an accusation, just an observation. "Or Luther, and Vanya didn't go on missions. Allison never got hurt anyway. So who did you help?"

"Klaus, mostly. Ben too." Five yanked the gauze tight, making Diego flinch. "Klaus didn't like to be coddled, so he never went to Grace. Ben always came to my room when he didn't want to bother her. Dad started forcing them to get patched up by Grace, and I didn't really help them after that. Those skills came in handy during the Apocalypse, though."

Diego was quiet. Nothing changed, but Five's movements became more jerky when he mentioned the future, his fingers rougher than they'd been a second before. He finished tying up the wound without another word, then packed up the medical supplies.

"The bullet went clean through," Five informed him. "Lucky you. Taking out a bullet wound doesn't feel nice, as I'm sure you know. Don't plan on fighting bad guys any time soon."

And before Diego could even open his mouth to thank him, Five vanished in a soft pop.

Damn kid and his disappearing act.


	3. Number Three - Allison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five walks in on Allison and her daughter.

Allison smiled at the screen. At her beautiful, baby girl Claire, her eyes bright and warm. Claire babbled on about her day and friends she was making at school. Allison was just content to listen.

Then her door swung open.

"So I think I've finally—" Five cut himself off, seeing the screen, and immediately tried to backtrack. "Oh, I, uh, I'll come back later—"

"Wait!" Allison called. Five stops in the doorway. "Stay."

Five visibly swallowed. His constantly wide, paranoid eyes darted to Claire, then to Allison, then back to Claire. He looked like a trapped animal. "Are you sure? I—"

"Get over here," Allison said, smiling.

Every movement filled with reluctance, Five pulled over a chair and took a seat in front of the screen.

"Claire, honey, this is your Uncle Five," Allison told Claire. "Five, say hi to Claire."

"Hi," Five breathed.

Claire tilted her head, confused. "I thought Uncle Five was dead, mommy."

Five turned to Allison. His expression broke her heart. "You told her I was dead?"

"We all thought you were dead," Allison said quietly. "You just vanished, Five. What were we supposed to think? It was easier to tell Claire than have her ask about an uncle who didn't exist."

"I stopped existing after I left?" Five shook his head, then fixed his attention back on Claire. "Well, I'm not dead. It's good to meet you, Claire."

Claire giggled. "So why do you look like a kid?"

If it had been literally anyone else, Five would've scoffed and torn them apart with vicious insults about intelligence and worth, but for Claire, he raised an eyebrow indulgently. "Why do _you_ look like a kid?"

"'Cause I am a kid, silly!"

"Well then, I guess I'm a kid too," Five replied. He gives a rare smile, but as always, it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Your mommy has said a lot of good things about you. I'd like to meet you someday."

"Where've you been?" Claire questioned, inching closer to the screen.

"That's a complicated story. I went to a very bad place, but I'm back now, and I'm going to make sure that no one else has to go there like I did."

Allison frowned at that, at his phrasing, but didn't interrupt him.

"What bad place?"

Five lowered his gaze for a second, swallowed thickly, then said, "don't worry about it. You'll never have to go there."

Claire seemed satisfied with his answer. The two chatted for a few more minutes while Allison listened, happy to let Five talk to his niece. Five didn't relax throughout the entire conversation, but his fingers stopped tapping incessantly against the wood, and his lips actually quirked into a half-smile two or three times.

But then Claire yawned, and Allison softly advised Five to tell her goodnight.

"We'll talk another time, okay?" Five said. Claire nodded sleepily. "Goodnight, Claire."

"Goodnight Uncle Five."

Five hung up before Clair could. He stayed there for a moment, staring at the now-dark screen, before abruptly shoving himself to his feet. "I've got some calculations to work through. See you in the morning."

"Five—"

"Allison," Five interrupted. Allison closed her mouth. "The world is ending. I need to work on my calculations to stop it, because I want to live long enough to meet Claire. So goodnight."

Five didn't give her a chance to respond. He pushed the door closed behind him with more force than necessary.

"Goodnight," Allison said to the empty room.


	4. Number Four - Klaus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus has traveled through time. Five knows the effects personally.

Klaus yanked a shirt over his head, fumbling for the metal dog tags and pulling them into the light. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms, swallowing hard, ignoring the vicious headache pounding inside his skull.

He didn't hear the footsteps until Five was standing in his doorway, watching him curiously.

"Are you okay?" Five asked, frowning. He had that same gleam of interest in his eyes that made Klaus feel like he was being dissected.

"Yeah," Klaus muttered.

Five lifted an eyebrow. His gaze roved up the length of his body, taking in the various ways Klaus knew he looked like shit.

Releasing a long sigh, Klaus dropped into a chair and resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands.

"You did it, didn't you?" Five asked after a moment. A strange, eager sort of smile spread over his face, almost shark-like. Klaus shivered.

"Did what?"

"Time traveled."

Oh, _how_ could he, the time traveler, have ever _known?_  Klaus cleared his throat. "... yeah."

"Where did you go? Or when?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters!" Five exclaimed.

A pause. "Vietnam, 1968."

Five made a noise of reverence. "How long?"

"Almost a year." Klaus couldn't really bring himself to say more. If he did, he might end up sobbing on the ground with Dave's lifeless corpse flashing before him, so he kept his mouth securely shut.

"A year," Five echoed, awed. He grinned for the first time since he had returned, and it was real, not a triumphant smirk or a righteous sneer. An actual, honest-to-God smile of... relief? "Let me guess. You somehow got your hands on Hazel and Cha-Cha's briefcase."

"I thought I could pawn it off for money," Klaus admitted. "But..."

"But then you opened it." Five shook his head a bit. "Wow." He stepped forward. "Where is it now?"

"Gone," Klaus muttered. "I destroyed it. Just..." He made an explosion noise, waving his hands.

In an instant, Five's expression shifted from relieved to downright terror. " _What?"_

"I destroyed it."

"You _idiot_!" Five cried. He masked his fear quickly, covering it up with rage. "I needed it to get back!" He reached up and threaded his fingers into his hair, eyes screwed shut. For a moment, Klaus thought he might stomp his foot petulantly. He took in a shuddering breath.

Klaus' headache had worsened to a point where he couldn't be bothered to feel any concern over Five's distress. Instead, Dave's face abruptly swum before his sight, causing him to flinch. He looked up at Five, who had begun to pace restlessly, teeth grinding together.

"Relax, _mi hermano_ ," Klaus advised. "I'm sure you'll find a way. You're the genius of the family, anyway."

"But I'm not—" Five seemed to choke on his words. Then he shook his head, expression clearing, and met Klaus' eyes. "So what did you do, back in Vietnam?"

A pause. Klaus almost didn't reply, but seeing that Five obviously needed to be distracted, he said, "fought on the front lines. War couldn't take enough bodies."

Five nodded slightly. "You doing okay?"

"Ha." Klaus tilted his head back, smiling in a way that was anything but amused. "I'd be a liar if I said yes." Five waited for him to keep talking, and that he did. "I met this guy. Dave. Great guy. Amazing. He made me want to be better. God, Five, I..." He sucked in a ragged gasp. "I love him. And now he's... he's..."

Klaus didn't even realize he was crying until he tasted salt, and then he was sobbing with his face in his hands, the grief knotted up in his chest threatening to overwhelm him. Great. Breaking down in front of Five was the last thing he wanted.

Then firm-yet-gentle fingers tentatively gripped his shoulder. Five was not a touchy person, but he was ignoring his obvious discomfort to soothe Klaus.

Crying in earnest now, Klaus turned and leaned into Five's touch, causing the him to tense up. Then Five relaxed, his fingers rubbing circles on Klaus' shoulder.

"I know," Five whispered. "I know what it's like."

"How?" Klaus managed to say, sniffling. Five's eyes were a million miles away.

"I've lost people too."

And he didn't elaborate further.


	5. Number Six - Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben can't control the monsters living beneath his skin.

Ben closed his eyes. God, this was too much. He couldn't handle this anymore.

His skin writhed and itched, the hint of a tentacle rising from his flesh before sinking back down again. He clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his cries.

These—These monsters, these _horrors,_ they weren't going away. They were getting stronger, appearing more and more. He couldn't control them. They shot out from under his skin and killed the bad guys, but even people who were bad didn't deserve to die.

The horrors thought differently.

A muffled whimper escaped him. He was eleven years old, goddammit, he shouldn't have to—have to—

_Creak._

His door swung open microscopically. A sliver of light crept in, revealing a wide-eyed Number Five.

Ben opened his mouth to question him, but then the skin on his chest began to _bubble_ and fucking twist with the horrors underneath and Ben let out a broken sob, pressing his hands against them to force them back under. He didn't even realize that Five had slipped the door closed and was now kneeling at his side.

"Ben."

"Go away, go away," Ben cried, shoving at the hands that were trying to grab him. "I can't—They're—"

"Ben, breathe," Five urged. "Come on, breathe with me."

Slowly, with Five's smooth voice guiding him through it, Ben steadied his breathing. Five's gentle touch moved away, but Ben latched onto his wrist desperately.

"Don't leave," Ben whispered.

And Five didn't. He sat down with Ben and stayed.

Ben confessed his sheer terror at the thought of losing himself to the monsters under his skin. He told Five how he could hear them, even now, whispering their incomprehensible words in his ears, layering their speech over his own. Five only nodded and let him talk.

"You know..." Five spoke after a beat of quiet. "I don't understand. I won't lie and say I do. But I do know what it's like to be afraid of the things in your head."

"You do?"

"Yeah." Five smiled crookedly. His eyes glittered in the faint light. "I hear voices too, but they're mostly my own thoughts. I learned how to tune them out. Do you want to learn?"

Ben nodded, eager.

"Imagine those voices, those thoughts, as little coins. Like pennies, quarters, dimes, anything. Pick them up off the floor in your mind. Once you have as many as you can carry, imagine a box. It can look however you want. Mine is a black box with a blue lock."

Ben followed his instructions. He imagined a shiny gold box, covered in twinkling rubies, locked shut with an iron latch. "What now?"

"Now, you take all those coins, those voices..." Five held out his hands, pretending to hold the coins. "... and you dump them in the box. All of them." He opened an invisible box and emptied the imaginary contents into it. "Now you just shut the box and lock it, but don't throw away the key. You might need it later."

Ben obeyed. And right before their eyes, the rippling of his skin died away, the horrors sinking back to where they belonged. The voices in his ears dulled to a mere whisper.

"They're gone," he gasped. Forgetting himself, he lunged forward and wrapped Five in a surprise hug. "Thank you!"

Five froze and stiffened. Ben remembered that he hated physical contact, and quickly drew away, but to his shock, Five returned the embrace.

"You're welcome," Five replied. He pulled back, smiled, and rose to his feet. "Remember the key, Number Six. See you in the morning."

"O-Okay."

Five slipped the door closed, and although Ben was alone now, he focused on the imaginary golden box in his head. He'd always think of Five when he opened it.


	6. Number Seven - Vanya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya isn't special. She knows that. Five knows that. Five doesn't care.

"No, Number Seven," Reginald scolded harshly. "You do not get to participate in missions because you are not special. You have no powers. Do not ask again."

Ah, thirteen. The wonderful age when everyone in the Hargreeves Household had adopted a defiant nature (exempting Luther, of course, who worshiped the ground Hargreeves walked on).

Vanya was a prime example of teenage rebellion. She was beginning to question Reginald more, asking to go on missions and wondering why she didn't have any powers. Reginald shut her down each time.

This time, however, instead of crossing her arms and scowling as she'd been doing recently, her bottom lip quivered and she blinked rapidly, then turned and set off down the hall, deaf to Reginald calling after her.

Vanya brushed past Five and ran upstairs into her room, where she could cry in peace. She closed the door behind her and curled up on her bed, a stray tear slipping down her cheek. Why? Why did everyone hate her?

Why couldn't she be special like them?

She sniffled and rubbed her eyes, swallowing thickly. She wanted powers so bad. Even bad powers, like Klaus' or Ben's. Klaus always complained about seeing the ghosts, even waking up with terrible nightmares, but Vanya would trade this—this _un_ -specialness for seeing the dead in a heartbeat. She didn't care if it was a useless power, like curving things in the air, but god she'd take Diego's powers over this hollowness inside her.

A quiet sob escaped her.

Then-

_Pop!_

A flash of blue alerted her to the presence of Number Five.

Not everyone in the house liked Five. He was egotistical and self-righteous, and he thought a little too highly of himself. He was paranoid and prowled the halls at night to make sure everyone was safe. But he was the only person who talked to Vanya like his sister, not an unnecessary addition. Sometimes, late at night, they would make peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches and talk about the others in conspiratorial tones. Five looked at her like she meant something.

Now, Five was looking at her with great pity.

"Hey, Vanya," he said, stepping closer. But he didn't touch her. He refused to touch anyone in this house. Something about germs. "Hey, it's okay. Come on, no tears. You're stronger than that."

Vanya exhaled shakily and wiped her eyes. Five gave her a lopsided smile. She returned it.

"Why are you here?" Vanya asked quietly.

Five tapped his foot once on the ground. He always seemed to be anxious, which made Vanya wonder why he didn't take the same pills she did, for his nerves. "Do I need a reason to talk my sister?"

"It's just—" Vanya huffed. "You're supposed to be going on a mission with the rest of them. Aren't you going to be late?"

"Late?" Five scoffed. He vanished and reappeared beside her, sprawled out like a lazy cat.

"Good point."

"Anyway," Five said, cracking a smile, "I'm not going on the mission. Apparently Dad doesn't want to deal with my insolence today."

"What made him say that?"

"I started bugging him about time travel."

"Oh, that's a surefire way to skip out on a mission. How mad was he?"

Five's grin widened. "Enough that he started spouting all that bullshit about my potential and strength and blah blah blah. He was giving Four the same lecture when I came here."

"Poor Klaus," Vanya said. She looked up at him. "Can you? Time travel, I mean?"

A pause. "Wanna know a secret?"

Vanya leaned in, a hand cupped over her ear.

Five's voice was filled with triumph. "I figured it out. The right equations, I mean. I know how to time travel. I'm ready."

"Oh!" Vanya squealed, clapping her hands together. "You've been working at it for so long, I'm glad you finally figured it out."

"Yup. And I'm gonna break the news tomorrow at breakfast. Hopefully, he'll let me show him that I'm ready. Then I can travel to the future, maybe bring something back for you."

"What do you think the future is like?"

"Hm." Five leaned back, tapping his chin in contemplation. "I don't know. Maybe there's fancy technology and flying cars. Maybe everyone has super powers, and no one is just normal. Maybe in the future, you'll be super successful and own a massive business."

"I don't want to own a big business. I want to play in an orchestra someday, with my violin."

Five snapped his fingers. "Then that's what you'll do! You'll be a big hit, everyone around the world will be playing your songs." He started waving his arms in exaggeration, his voice rising and falling with his enthusiasm. "Crowds of _thousands_ will come to listen. You'll be a star, Vanya."

Before she could stop herself, Vanya reached over and pulled Five into a hug. For the very first time, he let her.

This was exactly what she needed. A distraction. And Five knew exactly how to comfort her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Five drew back, but he was smiling too. "You're welcome."

 


	7. DROWN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five can't close his eyes without seeing the future. He can't look at his siblings without seeing their hollow, empty eyes.
> 
> He can't be alone without seeing the burning rubble of his home.
> 
> (Ha. Who said time travel doesn't screw with your head?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Do any of these words make sense?  
> Am I fighting to be heard but leaving no defense?  
> Can you understand where I'm coming from?  
> All my friends are dead  
> And their bodies gone  
> We live in selfish introspection of our own dark light  
> Polluting minds with retrospection, was it worth the fight?  
> I can't seem to find the escape hatch  
> But I'm sick of sitting tight  
> Trapped inside warheads, I'm bunkered with ashen soul  
> Your crooked heart's still beating, begging eyes to witness more."  
> \- 'DROWN', AViVA

The gritty taste of smoke. A strange, rippling heat. Soft flakes of ash on his skin.

Five opened his eyes to hell.

There was a thick coat of dirt on his palms, under his fingernails, in his hair. The rubble beneath him shifted when he moved. His throat burned from inhaling smoke. His mouth was dry. His vision swam, hazy, flashing, filling his ears with screams that sounded a little too like his own.

There were people at his feet.

Luther laid still, a fake eye clutched in his hand. Allison's were open, unseeing. Only Klaus' umbrella academy tattoo was visible under the rubble. Diego was frozen, reaching out for Klaus. Ben was not here. Ben died a long time ago. Vanya was not here either. Maybe she was alive.

But if she was alive, then why had she not come for Five? Why did she leave him alone?

The panic that flooded him was unparalleled. He couldn't be here. He couldn't stay here a moment longer, this terrible place where he had begun to lose his mind. He would rather die than live another day here.

Then he blinked and he was sitting on the couch, his siblings arguing all around him over something trivial. His mug of coffee slipped from his hands and shattered against the ground, bringing the conversation to a screeching halt. Everyone's eyes were on him.

"What?" Diego asked brusquely, folding his arms.

Five swallowed with difficulty and vanished in a pop of blue.

* * *

Five didn't have the tolerance of an adult anymore. He felt exhausted and hazy after only a few shots. He gulped down the burning alcohol anyway and tried to ignore the itching under his skin.

He liked logical things. He liked numbers and equations, solid things he could work with.

Something in his chest tightened painfully. He blinked away the irrational tears.

Wanting his siblings to live was not logical, he decided. It was an emotional response. Emotions were not logical.

He himself, though, he couldn't care less if he lived or died. He hadn't cared about himself for a very long time. He didn't want to die, however. He just wanted to complete his job.

But he wasn't good enough. He was falling apart, bit by bit, and maybe he truly started to crumble when he first landed in the future. He left a chunk of himself in the past, another chunk in the future, and another chunk every time his siblings touched him or laid their fucking pitying gazes on him. It made his skin crawl.

Because love was weakness. Love was vulnerability.

He remembered how his shoulders had burned for the rest of the day after Diego pulled him into a brief side hug. How every time Klaus decided to ruffle his hair, something ached deep in his chest.

His breathing hitched.

* * *

Five didn't remember how he got here.

He was now standing in the middle of the dark house, the fallen chandelier at his feet. He had a moment of wild terror when he whirled around, his surroundings suddenly unfamiliar. Then his mind matched a name to a place, and he recalled he was still at the house. The dark house. The eerily silent house.

But how did he get down here? He didn't remember going down the stairs. Maybe he jumped through space. But he didn't remember that either.

"Hello?" he called out, annoyed at how timid his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hello?"

Silence. No one answered him.

 _It's a big house,_ he reasoned. It was perfectly normal for him not to be heard.

And they wouldn't leave him alone.

Right?

Trying to assure himself that his mind was just playing tricks again, he headed upstairs and pulled open Diego's door. Empty. He swallowed and tried Klaus'. Also empty.

Something icy clawed at his heart.

He yelled Allison's name before opening her door. Empty.

Luther. Vanya.

All empty.

The kitchen. Reginald's study. The library. The attic. No one.

They couldn't have left him alone. All alone in this big empty house that was beginning to smell like smoke.

"Luther!" Five shouted. "Vanya!"

He tore through the house, seized with terror, yanking open various doors with reckless abandon.

"KLAUS!" he screamed. His throat began to burn, his whole body trembling violently. "ALLISON! DAMMIT, _DIEGO!"_

His shoe snagged on the edge of the stairs and he tripped, smacking into the wood. Sprawled out on the stairs, limbs aching and his eyes burning, Five's panting turned to ragged gasping. Alone. _Alone._ They left him alone. He choked out a sob and curled up, eyes shut tight as the world started burning around him.

Everything was reduced to rubble. He was crouching in the smoldering ruins of the Hargreeves house, smoke curling around him, ashes in his mouth as eyes. His fingers dug into the scorched concrete.

_Not again._

Five did not want to die.

But he did not want to live.

Not here. Not anywhere he could remember this place.

"No," Five moaned, fingers scrabbling at the hot rubble beneath him. His knees dug into the dirt painfully. "I CAN'T DO THIS AGAIN, PLEASE!"

His family was everywhere, dead, dead under the ruins. Diego's sightless eyes were fixed on Five. Klaus' umbrella tattoo was coated with grime. Allison was skewed through the middle with a jagged pole.

" _Please_ ," Five sobbed desperately. He bent over until his forehead touched the broken pavement. "Please, don't make me—I can't— _God_ —"

_"Five?"_

A swirl of red and grey spun around him, drowning him in acrid smoke and bitter ash, filling his lungs with fire. He couldn't breathe. He was choking on sand and the scent of rotting flesh.

_"Five."_

He coughed violently, fervently trying to hack up the dust in his chest, trying to dispel the loneliness in his heart. Tears tracked down his face unbidden.

_"Five!"_

Rough hands grabbed at his wrists. He jerked away from them with animalistic terror, lashing out with his fingernails and any body part he could use to damage them. _The Handler._  She was here to take him away, to carry him off with the irresistible offer of freedom. She was here to mold and shape him and cut away everything that made him human. She was here to turn him into a killer.

_"Five, stop!"_

"NO!" Five shrieked, struggling against the several pairs of hands wrestling him down. He wouldn't, he wouldn't go with them, he wouldn't let them—

_"Five, calm down."_

_"It's Diego, Five—!"_

Diego?

Five went still. Diego was dead. He couldn't—he wasn't—

Diego was back from the dead to haunt him. Was this what being Klaus was like?

Then Diego was actually standing before him, hands on his wrists, eyes wide with uncharacteristic concern. He almost looked afraid. Five stopped breathing at the sight. He'd only ever seen Diego scared as a corpse, his expression an echo of how he felt when he died, which meant that Diego really was here to torture him for his failure.

"Five, whoa, calm down," Diego urged, holding him still. "It's okay. You're okay."

"You're not real," Five sobbed, shoving weakly at him. As the smoking rubble faded out of view, four other people came into focus.

Klaus sitting beside him, a hand on his upper arm. Luther a few feet away, eyebrows furrowed, with Allison in a similar position next to him. Vanya hovered over his shoulder, her hand raised just above his shoulder.

They were back. They were all back to haunt him for his failure. He failed to save the world. He failed to save them. He failed at everything that gave him purpose.

He broke everything he touched.

"I'm sorry," Five gasped, bending over to hide his face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" He couldn't stop saying it. Couldn't stop apologizing. "God, I'm sorry, I couldn't save you and now—now you're—"

"Five," Diego said forcefully. His grip tightened on Five's wrists as he gave him a little shake. "Five, you're okay. We're right here. Don't be sorry, Five, you didn't do anything wrong."

"I failed," Five choked out. The words ripped from his throat, broken shards of hope. "I couldn't save you. I failed. I failed. I'm—I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." He dissolved into quiet sobs. The others seemed at a loss for what to do.

Then a new, warm arm settled around his shoulders. Five's skin burned at the contact.

"Wherever you just went," Klaus said, strangely gentle, "you're not there. You're back at the house, sitting on the stairs. We're real, Five. We're here for you."

Five turned, threw his arms around Klaus, and cried. Klaus froze, startled, but then returned the gesture, pulling his older-but-younger brother close.

"Shh," Klaus soothed. "It's okay."

"Don't make me go back," Five whimpered, his breathing hitching. "I can't go back. I can't go back there."

"We won't. We won't. You won't ever go back there again."

They sat like that for a while, everyone listening to Five's muffled sobbing and Klaus' quiet words of comfort. Diego moved closer protectively. Allison ran her hands through Five's hair. Vanya massaged his shoulder. Luther stood over them all like a bodyguard.

Then, slowly, Five's crying lessened to shuddering gasps and sniffles, his family gathered around him. He finally drew away from Klaus, rubbing his eyes.

He became aware of his palms aching. Glancing down, he saw crescent-shaped cuts where his fingernails had dug into the skin. He rubbed the stinging wounds absently.

Diego's voice reached him first. "Five?"

He flinched. His voice came out snappier than he meant. "What?"

"Five, what...?" Diego seemed to not know how to phrase the question. But Five knew exactly what he was asking.

"Where'd you go?" Klaus asked.

They were still touching him. Everyone touching him like he deserved comfort. Like he deserved their sympathy. He felt like he was burning alive.

And in the wake of his complete and utter terror, anger swelled up in his chest.

Five shoved himself to his feet, Diego catching his arms as he started swaying, but he ripped his hands away. He raised one shaking finger at them. Huh. When did he start shaking? "WHERE WERE YOU?" Five shouted, his voice rising to a shriek, nearly tripping over himself trying to escape their pitying touches. "WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?"

They all looked taken aback.

"Me and Klaus were downstairs," Diego said quickly.

"I was out looking for Vanya," Allison put in.

Luther shuffled his feet, ashamed.

"Well, Luther?" Klaus drawled, head tilted. "Why don't you tell Five where you've been?"

Luther coughed. "Um..." He muttered something.

"Huh?" Klaus cupped a hand around his ear. "What's that? You were drinking your brains out because Dad sent you to the moon? Boo-hoo, Luther."

Five could no longer tell if he was trembling from fear or rage. "Why did you leave me alone?" he hissed, aiming his words at everyone. "Why did you leave me alone in this goddamn house?" His voice broke. "Don't leave me alone." Then suddenly his legs gave out and he crumpled to the ground, hugging himself tightly. Everyone moved as if to help him, but he smacked away Diego's hand. "Don't touch me."

"Just give in, Five," Klaus said cheerfully, reaching out for him. Five smacked him too.

Diego managed to get his hand around Five's wrist, stopping him from digging his nails in further. Instead of warmth, Five could only feel the cold, clammy flesh of a corpse. He flinched violently and scrambled away, another sob escaping him.

"Please," Five cried, still weakly pushing them back.

The fight drained out of him as Diego enveloped him in a hug. "I'm real, Five. You feel this?" He gripped Five's hand tightly, eyes pleading. "That's real." He tapped the wooden stairs beneath them. "That's real too. Whatever you're seeing, whatever you're feeling, it's just your mind. You're here, in the present."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Five confessed, his voice fading to a mere whisper. Everyone else had fallen perfectly silent. "Losing what I have in the present. Losing all this to the Apocalypse."

"Five, stop thinking about the Apocalypse for one goddamn second," Klaus piped up, cheerful despite the odd sadness in his tone. "This isn't healthy, this constant on-edgedness and paranoia."

"On-edgedness isn't a word."

"It is if I want it to be."

"Shockingly," Allison said, "Klaus is right. When was the last time you got a decent sleep?"

Five's silence must've answered them, because Diego groaned in disbelief.

"Five, you are not a machine. You can't run on coffee and anxiety and expect to be okay."

"I don't expect to be okay," Five snapped. "That is the very last thing I expected. But I don't need to be okay. I just need to do my job."

"You never answered me before," Luther spoke up. Five's glassy eyes flicked to him. "About after. You said what happens after is irrelevant. But that's not true."

"Irrelevant," Five echoed, grinding the word out through gritted teeth. It occurred to him briefly that he really didn't have to stay and deal with this. He could very well vanish into thin air, and no one would able to stop him. But he didn't.

For a moment, it was terribly quiet, and Five could feel the world beginning to spin beneath him again. He abruptly reached over and latched onto Diego's sleeve, much to the other's surprise.

"Hey..." Diego shuffled closer, pressing himself against Five's side. He was warm. Not like a corpse. Like a human being. "Hey, come here."

Despite his skin crawling and almost burning with all the physical contact he had today, Five let Diego pull him close and hold him like an actual child. What do they call this? Touch starvation?

After a long moment of Diego murmuring nonsensical words, Klaus said tentatively, "I... I didn't know you had PTSD."

"I don't," Five replied shortly.

"Flashbacks?" Klaus pressed. "Having certain triggers? Hyperfixation? Five, you're the prime example of someone who's been through a fuck-ton of trauma and doesn't know how to handle any of it."

Five was too exhausted to think of a comeback, so he didn't. He just let Diego comfort him, soaking in the warmth and affection before inevitably, he'd have to go right back to working.

Finally, when Five couldn't take the relentless skin-on-skin contact, he gently pushed Diego away. He got to his feet, shrugging off Vanya and Klaus' attempts to help him up.

"I'm going upstairs," Five said wearily. "I'm narrowing down my equations. I'll come down when I'm finished."

Immediately, his siblings exploded into a chorus of waits, nos, and stops. Both Vanya and Allison snagged his sleeve as he tried to walk by.

"You're not going anywhere," Diego told him firmly. "Especially not to go work. You're going to sit down while Klaus gets you a cup of coffee, and then you're going to tell us what we can do to help."

"But—"

"No arguments."

Diego had such a big brother look on his face now that—despite Five being quite a bit older than all of them—Five couldn't help but feel like a little kid.

Then all of them slowly traipse to the kitchen, everyone crowding around Five like he might collapse any second, and truthfully, he might. Five shrugged off Allison as she tried to help him walk. He could walk on his own, goddammit. He's not made of glass. But still, he was grateful they cared. He was just bad at accepting help.

Diego forced him into a chair while Klaus rummaged around the cabinets, searching for the coffee.

"Upper shelf," Five called.

Klaus ignored him.

Five soon realized that Klaus was not, in fact, making him coffee. He was popping open a box of tea bags. Catching his eye, Klaus grinned.

"Calming green tea for your poor harried soul," Klaus explained, sliding a mug of tea in front of him. Five sighed heavily, but took a sip anyway.

They waited for him to set the mug down before the interrogation. Luther leaned against the wall, Vanya and Diego sat down at the table, Klaus hopped up on the counter, and Allison stood off to the side, everyone waiting for him to speak.

Reluctantly, he did. "When I—" Five stopped, gathered himself, and continued. "When we were thirteen, I ran away. I thought I could time travel. I thought I had everything figured out. So I jumped forward. Took me three times, but I landed in the future." He shook his head, casting aside the vision of hazy smoke and embers that flashed before his eyes. "I landed in the Apocalypse. Everything was... burning. Reduced to rubble."

The tea burned his tongue. Five gulped it down anyway.

"I turned around and ran back to the house. Everything had gone to shit but my family would still be there, right?" Five laughed bitterly, gripping his mug tighter. "The house had collapsed completely. It was just a heap of burning rubble. That was bad enough, but then..."

Luther, having already heard this story, looked away.

"Then I found bodies," Five whispered. "I didn't recognize them at first. They were buried underneath the rubble of our house. I didn't realize what I was looking at until I saw an umbrella tattoo on one of them. It was you. All of you. Dead." His jaw clenched. "Ben wasn't there. Neither was Vanya. I never found out why Vanya wasn't."

Silence.

Allison covered her mouth. Diego let out a slow breath.

"That's why I came back," Five confessed. "Not to save the world, but to save you all. I can't... I can't watch you die." He set down the mug with a _thunk_. "I can't close my eyes without seeing your corpses. I can't sleep without being back in hell. I can't be alone, and I hate it, I hate being weak because the Commission had no room for weakness. I can't save my family if I'm drowning in self-pity. I'm sorry you had to see that breakdown, but I need to get back to work."

This time, it wasn't Diego, or even Klaus who stopped him.

It was Vanya.

She touched his shoulder, so gentle, her voice even more so. He didn't deserve her kindness. "Five, look at me." He obeyed. Her eyes, somehow, seemed to see right through him. "You aren't going to lose us. And you don't have to do this alone. We're here for you, Five, and we want to help you. And if we go down fighting, then we go down together. All of us. You don't have to be alone."

A few days ago, Five might have shoved her away scornfully and snapped, "of course I do, because none of you thick-skulled idiots can do anything right", but after his flashback earlier, his walls were crumbling down. He looked down into his mug of tea.

"... okay," he said finally. He needed help. Desperately. He couldn't handle all this weight by himself. And if his siblings were offering, then... "Okay. You morons can help me."

Instantly, it was like heavy weights had been lifted from his shoulders. He relaxed into his seat, the fog in his mind clearing. He wasn't alone in this. His family was there for him. He wanted to cry again.

Vanya smiled down on him.

Diego reached out and touched him, tentatively, gripping his shoulder like only a big brother could. "We were going to help you regardless, Five."

"Idiots," Five muttered, but his lips curled into a smile. "Idiots, the lot of you."

"I can't tell if he's insulting us or actually joking," Klaus stage-whispered to thin air. When he noticed Five's inquiring look, he grinned and said, "Ben's on board too, if anyone was wondering."

Five pushed out his chair and rose to his feet, feeling lighter than he had in years. "Well, thanks for the intervention and the pep talk, but I'm gonna go finish up my calculations. I'm close."

"Five, you can barely stand," Allison said.

She wasn't wrong. His breakdown earlier left him exhausted and swaying on his feet, and his vision warping and twisting as he tried to take a step. That, plus his lack of sleep and four cups of coffee a day was probably less than healthy. Also his drinking problem. Also his hallucinating. Okay, he was having a really rough time.

He jolted in surprise as Luther swept him off his feet and settled him in his big arms. Five made a noise of indignation and shoved at Luther, but who was he kidding. Being thirteen again had many disadvantages, including less strength. Also, there was no one as strong as Luther Hargreeves.

"Put me down," Five warned. He knew that trying to fight Luther in this position would only make him look ridiculous.

"No," Luther replied. "I think we all agree that you've had enough for one day."

"You're going to get a good night's rest," Klaus added, hopping to his feet. "With dreams full of fairies or guns or whatever it is you kids dream about these days."

"I am not a kid," Five hissed.

"You've got the body of one," Diego put in. They were all walking up the stairs now, with Five as an unwilling prisoner. "So you need to sleep as much as a kid does. And besides, sleeping will probably help those constantly working cogs in that genius brain of yours."

"No, 'm not a genius," Five muttered. "I can't stop one goddamn Apocalypse."

Then somehow they were upstairs in his room. He blinked. He'd been losing a lot of time lately. How did they get up here so fast?

Luther dropped him unceremoniously on his virtually untouched bed. Klaus looked around the room, then ran his finger down the length of the windowsill. His finger came up coated in dust.

"It looks the same," he remarked.

"Why would I need to move anything?" Five said. He rolled over onto his back, kicking off his shoes with a huff, resigning himself to his fate.

"Are these your calculations?" Vanya asked, touching the chalk-covered wall.

Looking back on it, Five probably looked like a maniac writing all over the walls, and he suddenly felt embarrassed. Man, he was a mess.

Everyone slowly filtered out after that, leaving only Diego in the room. He scanned the equations, his expression unreadable. Then he glanced over at Five, who was currently grumbling about sleeping and coffee.

"You don't have to do that, you know," Diego said after a moment.

Five raised an eyebrow.

"Act tough and shit." Diego took a seat on the edge of the bed, at Five's feet. "You pretend to be all self-righteous and on top of everything, but I know you're struggling."

"I've already decided to let you guys help me, isn't that enough?" Five unbuttoned his vest and tossed it to the side. There was something freeing about shedding the clothes he'd been wearing since he came back. When he looked back up, Diego was standing in the doorway.

"Get some sleep," Diego said, then moved to shut the door.

"Wait!"

Diego paused.

With great difficulty, Five swallowed his pride. "Can I tell you something? Don't tell the others, please."

"Yeah. Anything." Diego stepped back inside and leaned against the doorway.

A pause. "I'm scared, Diego," Five whispered. He couldn't look at his brother. "I'm scared of losing my mind. I'm slipping. Even now, the air smells like smoke. Every time I close my eyes I see the future, and each time it's harder to come back from."

"Five..."

But Five barreled on, knowing if he stopped now he'd never be able to get it all out. "I'm terrified that one day I'm going to be stuck back there forever, alone, and then The Handler is going to show up and turn me into a monster all over again."

Diego was silent for so long that Five feared he broke his brother. Then Diego sank to his knees in front of Five, his expression terribly sad. "Five, I'm not going to pretend I understand. I don't. I really don't. But I swear to you, as long as I'm still breathing, you will never have to go back there."

Five inhaled slowly. He still couldn't look Diego in the eyes, but something about Diego's bold claim made him feel secure. For the first time in a while, the ashes drifting down from the ceiling faded to nothing.

"Do you want me to stay?" Diego asked quietly.

Five could only nod.

Dragging over a chair, Diego said, "believe me when I say that you're stronger than all of us. I mean, I think I couldn't handle half the things you go through."

"It's still not enough."

"It's enough for me."

Five bit his lip. "I tried to get back. From the Apocalypse. You know I didn't mean to leave, right?"

"I know, Five."

"I didn't mean to leave," Five repeated shakily. "I just wanted to prove myself, and I screwed everything up."

"You were thirteen. You made a mistake. We all do."

Diego smiled a bit, then flicked off the lights. His voice remained, however. Five's eyes fluttered shut in the absence of nightmarish visions and spinning thoughts.

"Reginald Hargreeves may have b-brought us together, but Five? You kept us that way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you could tell, but I love Diego's big-brother-type relationship with Five.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much to anyone who read this. This is my first TUA fic and I was really excited to post this!


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